


soft silence

by cedricsboyfriend



Series: hedric shorts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedricsboyfriend/pseuds/cedricsboyfriend
Summary: an old short story i posted on my tumblr based on a prompt where Harry tells Cedric about his life. i hope u enjoy!
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter
Series: hedric shorts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688842
Comments: 4
Kudos: 164





	soft silence

“Your family is so _nice_.” Harry said, dropping his bags on Cedric’s bedroom floor. “I didn’t think I’d be welcomed so warmly.”

When he entered the front door, Cedric’s mother had already begun to remind him of Mrs Weasley, pulling him into a gigantic bear hug before fussing over the thin frame of his body, asking about his allergies and what he liked to eat. Mr Diggory was less affectionate in comparison, but he still shook Harry’s hand nonetheless, expressing particular excitement and a certain adamance about getting him to play casual Quidditch, despite Cedric’s resistance.

“I’m glad you like them, but I think they’re just normal.” Cedric said now, laughing a little.

“Well they’re nicer than _my family._ ”

It was an offhand comment on Harry’s part, but for Cedric, it felt more like a bomb just dropped as he paused, his ears perked up. Harry’s family was never a topic that they broached, even during their long, winding conversations in the library; or the discussions that often veered off after their DA meetings.

“Er what-.. what are _your_ family like?” Cedric asked, trying come off as casually as he could.

“Well they’re not really _hospitable.._ I guess. Not to wizards or _anyone_ who isn’t worth their time including myself… They’re more like landlords.”

“Land-.. landlords?”

“Yeah. It’s sort-of just, an obligatory relationship between me and the Dursleys, they don’t really like the fact that I live in their house after all..—I’m surprised that they haven’t chucked me out by now actually-”

Harry trailed off, immediately regretting the words he said as Cedric whipped around, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide.

“ _What do you mean_?” he demanded and Harry realized that he’d never really told Cedric about the Dursley home—he’s never really told _anybody_ besides Sirius. So after he sat Cedric down on his bed, and after he spent a long minute trying to think about what to say and _how exactly_ to say it; he talked.

First about the Dursley’s hatred for magic. Petunia’s specific loathing of her sister, or his mother, Lily.

He talked about how he only ever used things or wore hand-me-downs that came from Dudley, a cousin who’d cruelly beat him up when they were younger, someone who was more of a bully than a family member. He talked about how while the Dursley’s spoiled Dudley silly, they never celebrated his birthday or bought him anything new. That instead he obligations, cooking their breakfast, washing their dishes and doing their laundry as a way to pay rent; that he only ever cleaned up the kitchen and the living room because they never fully trusted him inside theirs and finally he talked about how his own room, which was—up til he was eleven—a small broom-cupboard underneath the stairs.

Cedric found out about how the Dursley’s had first tried to keep Harry from going to Hogwarts; taking away his enrollment letters and even temporarily moving to a far off bog-shack in the middle of nowhere before his first year. He talked about how his windows were barred up in the second, and then explained the third-year incident, where he blew up his Aunt Marjorie because of the nasty words she had called his parents. Eventually Harry explained how the word _magic_ and anything related to Harry and the wizarding world, tasted bad in each of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley’s mouths. How, while his obligations to pay rent with chores has changed, the Dursley’s vehemence still remained. There was fear of course, of what Harry could do, could bring. But mostly the Dursley’s maintained their sense of superiority, and Harry his stubbornness, prompting a power struggle that had been building ever since the first Hogwarts letter; a mutual resentment that inflicted wounds on things _larger_ than each party’s sense of pride, cutting deeper and festering longer like a scab that had been picked too many times to heal.

When Harry finished, there was a resounding silence that followed his tales. Cedric was hunched, elbows on his knees and he stared, a distraught expression at the floor. Harry immediately felt guilty. He had always been hesitant to talk to people about his family situation, he didn’t want to be any more of a burden or problem child than he already is.

“Cedric, I-”

“Don’t you dare tell me that…all of that—all of what you’ve just said—was nothing.”

Ah. He predicted it.Harry thought.

“Of course I predicted it, how long do you think I’ve known you for?!” Cedric said.

Shit, I said that out loud.

Harry tried to alleviate the tension, “It’ll only be until I’m eighteen, Ced… Only two more years til I graduate.”

“They still hurt you Harry. They’ve done it before and they’ll just keep going!” Cedric argued, face twisted in aggravation.

“Well it isn’t that bad now! They don’t really try to interact anymore.” Harry coaxed but Cedric’s temper persisted, his arms crossed and eyebrows slanting downward.

“Why are you comforting me? Shouldn’t you be more angry at them?” he said and he stared at Harry, eyes blazing, indignant, “What they did and what they’re doing—it’s neglect! Abuse!”

Harry could tell that Cedric was clenching his teeth. The irritation, the carefully kept tone but snappy words—it was a strange anger, so vastly different from the dark and stoic flickerings that he showed, after seeing Umbridge’s punishments on Harry’s arm. Right now, it was more ember and spit. Less blinding shadow, and less of the unpredictable nature that could be found in electric storms and bent mountains that fell prey to an underestimated wind or quake; Harry knew that there was something red and livid coiled in Cedric’s mind.

..But, he also knew that underneath all that anger was sadness, an upset. It was always that touch of compassion that quelled his fire or even sometimes, like now, fueled any of the rage that rocked behind his eyes. Was it just his own helplessness that angered Cedric the most?

Harry felt like he’d known him for so long, he was probably right.

The fact that his situation has, and will continue to go on, the idea that Harry will have to go home to that house fueled his red; but most of all, his inability to help, both of their positions as powerless teenagers until that eighteenth birthday comes… all of these things angered Cedric more than any other thing in this world.

“Do you know how I deal with it? With the Dursleys, and with waiting for each year to pass?” Harry asked softly.

“How?” Cedric asked, impatient.

“I think about how it would feel on that day. The day I graduate from Hogwarts, and I go back to Little Whinging, pack up my bags and get out before they kick _me_ out. No goodbyes, nothing. Just straight there from Kings Crossing and back. I’ll get a one-way ticket to anywhere and everywhere in Britain.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Just that? You don’t have any other plans, or anything else to look forward to?”

“Well getting to that moment in the first place has proved a little challenging,” Harry laughed. Cedric glanced at his feet for a moment, drifting in brief thought.

“Then on that day, I’ll take you away.” he said, staring at Harry, steel in his eyes.

“..What?”

“When you’re eighteen and if you’ve nowhere else to go, then you should live here,” Cedric said and he stood up suddenly.

“Come home with me! You can use the guest room! A-and we have an acre of land around, you can go for walks, you can do your gardening—Mum would love it if you-”

“W-wait, hold on Cedric, are you asking me to live with you?”

Suddenly Cedric faltered a bit. The excitement faded and the steel blunted in his eyes as he blushed, nervous.

“Yes. I-I am.”

“Wh-! Would your mum and dad even agree? Oh, don’t get me wrong! I appreciate it—I do! But it’d be a hassle right?”

Cedric shook his head solemnly.

“Never!” he said, and as he spoke he noticed something change in Harry’s face… something quiver.

“Would your mum and dad even approve?” Harry laughed but as he did, there it was again—a tremor—like something delicate was struck loose.

It made Cedric walk closer to him, squatting down and bending on one knee as he stared up at his face.

“If they don’t approve, we can rent a room or an apartment somewhere… somewhere far away, maybe by the sea.” he said, murmuring the last sentence, wistful.

Harry closed his eyes.“You really don’t think I’m a hassle?” he whispered. And again.

A tremble. Like he was about to cry.

Cedric brought his hands forward and stroked Harry’s cheek, before letting them slide and cup his face.

“Why would I ever think that?” he asked and he felt Harry place his hands on top of his.

They were shaking.

“It was just a dream a second ago! Something distant, not even real yet. And now…” Harry took a deep breath and sighed, “…I’m really not used to it. To this… to you.”

Cedric inched his face closer, and he pressed a kiss in Harry’s hair. 

“Well, you better start now. Because on that day you turn eighteen and onwards-” his eyes blazed, “I _will_ make you happy, Harry Potter.”

Harry let a breath out and he laughed, shaky. His hands, shaky, on top of Cedric’s. Those eyes weren’t burning out of anger, nor irritation, this wasn’t someone who thought Harry was burdensome, a problem child; he was a fool for even suspecting so.

Cedric’s eyes were nothing but honest, pure and determined and so, _so_ bright.

“Until when?” he asked.

“Until forever.” Cedric replied and he leaned forward, Harry kissing him back harder than he’d ever done before.

…

_a little afternote:_

In the few weeks that Harry stayed in Cedric’s home, there were two things he was surprised to learn.

The first was that Mr and Mrs Diggory were quite ecstatic to have Harry in their home. Despite Mrs Diggory’s asking, Harry was surprised to find that it was Mr Diggory who prepared the meals; catching him awake one time in the early hours, taste-testing the days lunch and murmuring about Harry’s aversion to spice—something that he had tried to keep hidden during dinner last night, while eating Mr Diggory’s famous butter curry—. However somehow Mr Diggory had figured out all of Harry’s likes and dislikes; the meals getting sweeter and the desserts, more often than not, pie; with Harry’s favourite, treacle tart, always served as an extra large slice with vanilla icecream on top. When he first spooned the dessert into his mouth, the break of breadcrumbs and sweetened lemon dancing on his tongue, Harry suddenly understood how Cedric had become so considerate around others.

In comparison, Mrs Diggory was more into gardening, a little crop behind the house set out with rows of beanstalks, radishes, turnips and carrots popping out of the ground; Harry’s mentioned interest in the garden during dinner one night sent her enthusiasm through the roof as she began to plan and build a worm farm with him the next morning. It was nerve-wracking for Harry at first, he’d only ever maintained the Dursley’s lawn, which meant mowing and tending to Petunia’s marigolds and geraniums while in the Burrow; it was weeding and getting rid of pesky little gardening gnomes. But he soon learnt that he didn’t ever need to worry.

Mrs Diggory was, quite simply, lovely.

Encouraging words and her frequent and excited shouts of “Lemonade break!” helped him through the heat, before she gleefully painted the finished worm-farm red and yellow, saying that it reminded her of her two most favourite people at the time. When Harry saw Mrs Diggory coming out the house, her face marked with dirt, barely able to balance two tall glasses and a large jug of lemonade on a tray; he suddenly understood how Cedric had become so kind as well.

The second thing Harry was surprised to learn, was how quiet the Diggories were. Mr and Mrs Diggory didn’t often interact with Cedric, though it was never out of neglect. Besides breakfast and dinner, there just wasn’t much talk between the family. In the evenings, after supper, the Diggory house was mostly silent despite all its inhabitants spending time in the same living room; Mr Diggory tending to the fireplace while Mrs Diggory read in her armchair. Cedric and Harry would play the many board games they had, stockpiled in a cupboard, or would enjoy warm drinks and the grilled cheese that Mr Diggory often made at the dinner table.

And while it was lovely, Harry never really had time to enjoy quiet, not in the way that Diggory’s had almost artfully mastered. He always thought that every family would be as busy and as loud as the Weasley’s, the Burrow never empty of talk and always some kind of banter in the background. It lead him to believe that the silence was bad, knowing how it cold it felt in a house where no one really cared—Harry believed that it was better to fill the gaps with meaningless talk than to be so alone with another person, to be alone with your own thoughts—or at least that was what he had assumed.

It wasn’t like the Diggory home was completely quiet. There was still talk. In the mornings there would be a big breakfast, light chatter. Mrs Diggory asking them what they’d be doing and Mr Diggory enthusing or ranting about the most recent Quidditch scores. And then during dinner, similar conversations; Mr and Mrs Diggory talking about work, everyone’s predictions for the next mornings Quidditch scores, an ongoing debate between Cedric and Harry about whether _any_ of the creatures described in the Quibbler actually exist. And during the day, when his parents were at work, Cedric would lead Harry on tiny adventures. Exploring and building bivouac’s in nearby forests, skimming glass lakes and fields of long grass on their brooms and climbing trees; picking berries and sitting on the tops of hills while watching the sun set.

There’d be laughter, _so much laughter._ Cedric singing tunes while Harry played with around with an antique camera. And there’d be talk. Conversations that spiraled the mass of each individual star, Harry and Cedric going down rabbit-holes, turning into left-forks and running conversational ‘round-abouts before they got a new topic, only to do it all over again! There was _so much_ talk.

But Cedric’s house was quiet in the way… a draft would slip through your window during a hot summer night, the silence never cold and talk never used to fill it; the quiet, just a comfortable proof of peace.

Harry had never woken up to silence until this point. There was always something that jolted him awake; a nightmare, the need to leave the Dursley house as early as possible or a barging Fred or George, yelling for him to come downstairs and get breakfast.

But in Cedric’s house, he found that he got to wake up on his own, often to the quiet and in Cedric’s arms; sunlight pouring in from an open window, curtains billowing in the wind.

Usually Cedric would be sleeping soundly, but sometimes he was already up and staring at Harry, an elbow propped up on his pillow while his head leaned on his palm.

“Hey.” he’d whisper. And Harry would hear the trees sigh, and he’d rustle closer.

“Hi.” he’d whisper back, voice full of sleep.

And then they’d stay like that, not talking but awake, enjoying the warmth of the blanket and how good it felt to be held in each other’s arms; Cedric brushing through and curling his fingers around Harry’s hair while Harry pressed his hands and moved his fingers in circles; just as gentle, strong but not tight, just there, warm against Cedric’s back.

Quiet, the breeze creeping in while the birds chirp. A little world, just in that room.

Harry couldn’t wait to wake up like this for the rest of his life.


End file.
